Strange Brew
by AJ Morrelli
Summary: Anders gets surprised by the last person he'd expect it from.


Anders let out a soft grunt as his back collided with the wall, that about the only sound possible, given that there was a pair of lips crushed hard against his own. His hands reflexively gripped at the shirt beneath them, caught between pulling his assailant away and tugging them closer. As the warmth of his mouth was invaded by an insistent tongue, he started to fight back, which really only served to deepen the kiss.

"Nate, what?"

He'd managed to break free enough to catch his breath, whispering out the question on an exhale. Blinking several times, he tried to bring the dark-haired noble into focus.

Instead of answering, Nathaniel kissed him again, something demanding in the feel of it. Wanting. He could taste the lingering mix of ale and...some spice...herb...he couldn't tell and Maker, why was he bothering to try?

Nate's assault was starting to make him light-headed. The kisses were deep, lingering, so much so he could barely catch a breath from the corner of his mouth. Pressing a hand to the noble's chest, his push was rewarded with a growl, a hand clamping around his wrist and it being pressed against the wall. Still, it was enough of a distraction that he could turn his head, sucking in several panting breaths.

This was...Nate wasn't like this, was he? No. Always calm. Always collected. This wasn't right. Not to mention this was _Nathaniel_. Not some bar maid or winking apprentice. He shouldn't be doing this. _They_ shouldn't be doing this.

A nip at his throat brought him back to the reality that this _was_ happening. The slide of a tongue along his pulse actually made him shiver and the weight against his body reminded him that he was _not_ in control, not this time. Short of encasing Nate in magic, there was nothing he could do to free himself.

A hand came up, tugging at his hair. It first felt like Nate was trying to bare his throat further, until he felt fingers at the cord that pulled his hair back. It wasn't all the way loose by the time he pulled it free, another grunt escaping his clenched teeth as he felt the yank.

_Fine. Two can play at that._

His free hand slid up, fingers twining in Nathaniel's own hair, giving it a good tug and trying to pull him back a little. Nate _growled_ at his attempt, giving him a rather firm nip before he relented.

"What's gotten into you?" He was still pinned, still at Nate's mercy, and, Maker knew why, still wanting to be kissed like that again.

Nathaniel pulled himself loose, burying his face against the mage's neck. "Don't know. I just...I want...I need this. I need _you_." He picked his head up and started nibbling on Anders' jaw, working up to his earlobe. The press of their bodies together made the blonde _very_ aware of just what Nate needed him for.

"Sure you don't want me to find you a willing wench?" His chuckle came out ragged, what with Nate's tongue sliding along the shell of his ear. "I know sev-Ah!"

Nate nipped at his ear, one of the few things that made his brain completely stop working. Maker help him, he _whimpered_ and Nate heard it.

"You. I. Want. You." Each word was punctuated by either a nip or a suckle at his ear.

Anders could feel his legs starting to tremble. Maker, why was he _wanting_ this? He should be trying to push the other man away, not sliding his fingers into his hair again to keep him from pulling back.

Nate's hips ground into his, another solid reminder of the situation. He also allowed himself to remember that they were in one of the hallways, that anyone could walk up on them at any second.

"Bed." He found himself pushing the words past a dry tongue. "Bedroom. Closet. Not here." He tugged on Nathaniel's shirt again.

The rogue pulled back so suddenly that the loss of warmth was actually a shock. The hand at his wrist now served to pull him along. He watched as Nate glanced around, drawing them toward the nearest door.

"Shouldn't we-?"

He was pulled into the room, backed against the door, and silenced with another kiss. Fingers groped past him, fumbling for the latch that would lock the door behind them. The room was empty and Nate seemed determined to keep it that way.

No light filtered in. One of the small storage rooms. A little something to remind him of stolen moments in the Tower. Back then...back then...

Maker, he couldn't _think_! He'd heard the term 'drunk on kisses,' but this, this was something else entirely.

Nate's whole body seemed to pin him to the door. Hands grasped at his robes, pulling and bunching them upward. Fabric scratched against his bare thighs, making him slightly amused that Nate didn't share the same luxury as he did. Through the kiss, a wicked smile pulled at his lips and he let his lower body grind against the other man's.

That caused a whimper on his partner's part, the grip at his waist pulling them closer together. "Don't. Please."

Anders found himself nuzzling a scruffed cheek. "Don't what?" His lips brushed over the shell of an ear.

"Tease. Maker, please. I can't stand it."

"What? This?" His hands slid down, gripping at Nate's backside, pressing them together as he ground his hips forward again. His body brushed against all the right spots, causing another whimper.

Half of his robes trailed down his body again as Nathaniel reached back, seized his wrist and slammed it against the wall above his head. He felt his chin being forcibly nuzzled and nudged to an angle, followed by the nip of teeth at his throat. A knee wedged itself between his own, a solid thigh brushing between his legs. The combination of all three sensations made him groan.

"Mmm. Mercy. I'll be good." The nips got firmer, trailing up to jaw, then ear again. Now a hand, a buffer between that firmness, and yet not. A squeeze, then a stroke felt even through cloth. "Nate, please. I promise."

"Not good enough." Hand fumbling past the thick fabric of his robes, sliding past the more flimsy garment beneath, wrapping warm around heated skin.

The first stroke had him throwing his head back, banging against the door behind him. "Maker!"

Nate was not gentle. His calloused hands lacked the softness of a woman's, but something about the stroke, he knew. The very thing that should have been making Anders push him away was the very reason he wasn't. The right amount of pressure, speed, pace, they all blended together in sensations that were making his head light and his knees weak.

"Nate. Nathaniel," he groaned. Thank the Maker for the grip on him or he'd be sliding down to the floor at this point, even if that was sounding like a good idea. The weak tugs of his wrist did little good to earn him his freedom. If Nate was that distracted, well, again, two could play at that.

His other hand wasn't pinned yet. Instead, he brought it around, cupping the firmness he felt beneath breeches. A squeeze brought a groan and letting him feel the slide up to the laces had hot breaths against his neck.

Once the garment was loose enough, he slid his hand inside, mirroring the hold his partner had around him. Except for his hand, Nate stilled, the peace allowing Anders to feel the swallow that pulled the other's neck. As soon as he began moving, he felt a tighter grip around him, his groan mingling with Nate's.

The brunette buried his face against Anders' neck, muffling the groans and soft whimpers each stroke of his hand was causing. He could even feel the thrust of Nate's hips, complimenting the motion of his hand. That prompted him to begin the same, adding yet another spark to the sensations already building inside of him.

Tugging his wrist again, he was released, bringing his hand down to sink his fingers into Nate's hair once more. He felt a firm arm at his waist, helping him keep his feet, even as his muscles were starting to tense.

As deep groans started to escape his lips, he felt himself drawn into another kiss, this one not as breathless, and yet he found himself wanting it just as badly as Nate's touch. The sounds of their approaching releases mingled together, gasps and whimpers joining moans of pleasure.

He broke first. _Old habits_, he tried to tell himself, but in submitting to Nate's touch, there was no denying why. For as demanding as the rogue had been, Anders found himself willingly giving himself over to it. That loss of control, even for just that long, felt welcome.

Panting as he fought to catch his breath, he heard a soft whimper, felt a nuzzle at his neck. The realization that he'd stopped came back to him. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to Nate's temple, still trying to even out his breathing. As he began to move his hand again, he was rewarded with a hiss of pleasure. The hand that had been around him balled into the fabric at his waist, the other having slid up and into his hair again.

If all his past dalliances had Nate's control. He couldn't stop a soft chuckle at that thought. Outside of a few whimpers, he was practically silent. Even as he approached his peak, all Anders was aware of were soundless gasps and finally a groan that accompanied the shudder of his release. The tremble made the mage aware of his own shaky legs, that realization causing him to ease Nate down to his knees, sliding down the door along with him. Reaching out, he made sure Nate was tucked away, breeches laced loosely once again. Thankfully, his partner didn't seem to want to do much moving, curling up beside him and resting his head on the mage's hip. Not the most comfortable, but the warmth made up for it.

Despite the darkness, Anders let his eyes close, just listening to their breathing, fingers combing through the other's dark mane. The stillness was giving his mind a chance to catch up with what had happened. Maker knew what had brought this on, though. Why Nate had done it and why he'd let him.

He'd just reached a moment of dreamy relaxation when he felt Nate start beside him, pushing himself upright with a sharp exhale.

"Anders?" He could see him blinking, even in the gloom.

"In the flesh." He let a bit of a smile play at his lips.

A hand came up and he hid his eyes with a groan. "Maker. My head." He peeked at the mage from between his fingers. "We-"

"Yes."

"I didn't-"

"No."

"Maker's breath. Anders, I-"

"Don't know what came over you?"

"No. Yes. I mean, I think-" He groaned again, massaging his eye with the heel of his hand. "Poisons. I was testing new poison mixtures."

"Well, Maker knows you nearly killed me," the blonde laughed.

Nathaniel growled and ran his hands through his hair. "That...wasn't supposed to happen."

"But it did."

He muttered another curse. "How can you be so calm about this?"

Anders smirked. "Do you really think I couldn't have gotten away if I didn't want to?"

Nate sputtered. "You-?"

The mage laughed. "Actually, I think some of your poison muddled my thinking, too."

Nate glared at him. "I hate you."

He laughed again, softer this time. "Nate. Nathaniel, it's all right."

The dark-haired man shook his head. "I can't believe that."

"Well, we can either forget that this happened at all or we can acknowledge it and maybe move on from there."

"I'm not going to be able to look at you without flushing."

"Likewise."

"Or a vial of my poisons."

"That's your problem alone." Anders smirked.

"You're _really_ fine with what happened?"

"Maker's breath! Yes!" The words came out on an exasperated sigh.

The other young man actually looked sheepish. "I'm sorry. I just can't help thinking-"

"Then stop thinking." Anders pressed a finger to Nate's lips.

Nate sighed and bowed his head, looking at the mage through his hair. "All right. I'll try."

"Good boy."

He growled at him for that but Anders could still see his smirk, feeling himself smile in return.

They sat still for a few moments more before Nate pushed himself up, reaching out a hand to help Anders to his feet as well. The motion drew the two of them rather close to one another. Anders kept very still as Nate swallowed.

"I think I need to-"

"Yeah, me too."

He let Nate leave first. His glancing about wouldn't seem out of sorts, not to mention he didn't exactly want the other man to see him. In the dark and amid the kisses, it was easy to hide the smiles that had started pulling at his lips. Running a hand through his hair, his fingers trailed over to cover his mouth, there _still_ being a tingle of warmth there. Maybe he was going to have to try and convince Nate that further experimentation might not be a bad thing.


End file.
